


Hiraeth

by ghee (sabakunoghee)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Longing, M/M, Missing Persons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 09:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18233072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabakunoghee/pseuds/ghee
Summary: On that bench,theyused to sit.T rated | Canon/IC | Emotional Hurt/ComfortA one-shot about Hatake Kakashi, Namikaze Minato, and a tender yearning.





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jusrecht](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/gifts).



> Unbetaed.

On that bench, _he_ used to sit.

 

_He_  sat on the left side. His student was on his right.

 

Hatake Kakashi always fancied difficult books; despite his biological age which has not yet reached the number five. He was born a genius. A prodigy. A healthy, strong, refined young descendant of the legendary White Fang himself. Never had he showed the world his weakness, his heartbreak, when his father, the only man he recognized as a family, left him to the darkest path a _shinobi_ could take.

 

(Those were _too_ much for a four years old.)

 

The first time _he_ accompanied the little man, it was rough. Kakashi told him that he could handle himself – he mastered home cooking, he fought like an adult, he excelled his studies and easily surpassed any _jounin_ thrice his current age. A pair of dark, hollow eyes judged people as if they weren’t worthy, but deep down, he felt betrayed. His scars were deep and left unhealed, he trusted no one, he crawled, he walked, he struggled to survive alone. By himself. By those tiny hands and fragile legs and a heavy heart.

 

Time slowly opened up Kakashi’s mind, but _never_ his heart. He shared his thought and even asked _that man_ to teach some of his trademark moves. He was, as an adult, also a remarkable _shinobi_ who loved to use every knowledge he practiced for years in common for others, accepted Kakashi's plea without a single hesitation. He thought, ‘it must be this exciting to have a son’, and with a light and happy mind, he passed down everything he knew – he went as far as directing the kid’s training with no one was watching.

 

Things went right until the day. The painful, agonizing, tormenting day. He lost his beloved one by one in front of his very eyes – his best friend, Uchiha Obito, his best friend’s legacy, Nohara Rin, and, _him_.

 

Namikaze Minato.

 

There were days he _stopped_ coming to this park, to this bench they used to sit on together, side by side, chattering gleefully; when he felt too much pressure in his head and too many stabs through his heart.

 

He recurred after the storm washed away his spiraled thoughts.

 

The broken little boy has grown up into a tough man who sealed the way into his life. Never did he let anybody came too close, never did he intended to form an intimate bond. No – not after he lost so much and he didn’t desire to suffer _more._ All he could do was to treasure a teamwork and to prioritize his comrades, but that was the furthest a person could get. He'd prefer to wander, to search, to vanish – his way was winding, his soul was twisted, yet he remained, waiting for the end which would never returned.

 

(And _he_ knew; he was there – he never left.)

 

On that bench, _he_ used to sit.

 

He should have left after Namikaze Minato’s death.

 

Hatake Kakashi, however, was so getting used to sit there he found any other chair uncomfortable.

 

Even though it tortured him and the wound was still there – it gnawed him, chewed him, and swallowed him like a demon inside his closet, like a monster under his bed. (Like a black hole deep inside his guts.)

 

But being there soothed him – in a way he couldn’t comprehend.

 

_Kakashi, you come again_ , his translucent hand extended, it clearly intended to touch the grown man in flak jacket, nonetheless the universe knew it was useless, _How's my baby-son? He's doing fine, I assume?_

 

His limbs now couldn’t reach the boy but they touched his soul. His voice was soundless but it still echoed in an impossible way. His warmth turned cold-blue but it lingered in a locked room within his heart. That was why the blond man, in his diaphanous state, smiled when the silver-haired locked his sight to his left. To _him._ Kakashi's single eye stared to nothingness but he sensed a raw energy slowly evaporated into thin air – and he smiled back, patted the empty seat beside his solid figure then murmured a soft prayer.

 

_You know I'm here for you, don't you?_ He could feel a faint sensation of a soft caress on his left cheek – which he interpreted as the wind rustled around his head, _Come to me whenever you need me, Kakashi._

 

_Until then,_

 

“Ou! Kakashi-sensei, you're here!” the blustering, deafening noise came from the familiar high-pitched voice of Uzumaki Naruto. His grin was wide and bright and reminded him to those sunny days when he used to train with this _ramen_ -maniac’s father, “Told ‘ya he’s here!” He shouted to his right side, followed by footsteps of his fellows of the same age – Kakashi acknowledged the trio as the team he supervised.

 

The small Uchiha boy grunted, the pinkish little Haruno trailed behind him obediently.

 

“You promised us _ramen_ , Kakashi-sensei!” Naruto whined while grabbing him by his hand. He dragged him enthusiastically and made his teacher’s lazy ass move with his puny kid-strength, “C’mon, c’mon!”

 

Kakashi huffed and closed the book in orange cover he held by his left hand, “ _Maa, maa_ , don't rush me, you little rascal; Iruka-sensei might pamper you but guess what, I'm not going to allow such feebleness.”

 

The boy in orange color laughed then possessively hugged his teacher's arm, “He will be there too, you know!” whiskers on his both cheeks radiated positive energy he rarely perceived, “Your books can wait!”

 

Kakashi rolled his half-lidded eyes wearily.

 

When he finally surrendered to Naruto's merriment and prepared himself to depart, he could not help it but glancing at the barren seat and hummed in an amiable, _longing_ manner, “I'm leaving now, Sensei.”

 

_Right, I'm already dead_ , he smiled tenderly as he saw two of them walked away, the distance grew larger, their backs side by side, _take care of my student, Naruto. He needs you more than you need me._

 

On that bench, _they_ used to sit.

 

 

 

— _two abreast_.

**Author's Note:**

> hiraɪ̯θ ; "missing something" or "missing home."  
> the bittersweet memory of missing something or someone, while being grateful of that/ their existence.
> 
> my first writing for Namikaze Minato (...and I have no idea why and what,)  
> I was inspired by a fan-art, I'll post/update this end notes once I could get the link.
> 
> and dear Jus, this one is for you. YES. YOU.


End file.
